fe uselessly."

"But we can't keep him here," urged the Count.

"There is no need of his remaining at Lubny. The principal motive in
taking Jewish children from their homes is to make Christians of them.
That can certainly be better accomplished at a cloister than in camp.
Send the boy to the convent at Poltava; they will baptize him and make a
good Catholic of him, and we will gain our reward in heaven for having
led one erring soul to the Saviour." And the religious woman crossed
herself devoutly.

While his wife argued, Drentell appeared lost in thought. Suddenly his
face became illumined by a fiendish light, and he rubbed his hands in
evident satisfaction.

"Louise," he said, at length, "those are the first sensible words I have
heard you utter since we were married. Your idea is a capital one!"

"I am glad you think so," she replied, wisely refraining from commenting
upon her husband's doubtful compliment. "The Abbess at Valki told me
only the day before yesterday, that for every soul brought into the holy
church, a Christian's happiness would be increased tenfold in Paradise."

"Fanatical absurdities," cried the Count, who was as free from religious
sentiment as his wife was devout. "If I consent to have the child
brought up in a convent, I am not actuated by any considerations of
future reward or punishment. I don't believe in such antiquated dogmas.
But to the convent he shall go, and when they have taught him to forget
his origin and his religion, when they have educated him into a
fanatical, Jew-hating priest, then will I use him to wreak upon his own
race that vengeance which I have sworn never to forego."

Louise shuddered at her husband's vehement gestures and passionate
words. His eyes rolled wildly, his whole body seemed swayed by
uncontrollable rage. Little Jacob, although he understood nothing of the
Count's words, recoiled instinctively and hid his face in his hands.

Drentell gradually regained his composure, and after walking up and down
the room for a few moments, in apparent meditation, he rang the bell.

A servant entered.

"Take the boy back to the barn, and keep him there until I ask for him
again," he commanded. "Then harness up at once and send for _Batushka_
Alexei, the Abbot of the convent at Poltava. Tell his reverence that I
desire to see him as soon as possible on matters pertaining to the holy
church."

The servant disappeared, taking Jacob with him, and the Count and
Counte